


Crossed With Cat

by ionthesparrow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen, Los Angeles Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionthesparrow/pseuds/ionthesparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tyler, if I could do an epic fucking cheetah run, I would. I’m sorry I’m not a particularly fucking graceful cat,” he snaps. “As it is, I just want to get to practice.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossed With Cat

**Author's Note:**

> and now for something completely different (thanks, Kelsey)

* * *

 

“Wake up,” Tyler says. “Wake up. You’re a cat.” 

“The fuck?” Tanner opens his eyes and reaches for his phone because there’s no fucking way it’s already eight – 

“See?” Tyler says. 

Tanner examines the paw he’s stretching out. He flexes it, watching furred toes contract. “Huh.” He looks down. Tyler is on the floor. Tyler is also a cat. “Huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Tyler is a brown cat. There might be some sort of fancy word for it, but Tanner doesn’t know it. Tanner’s never been much of a cat person. 

Today aside, naturally. 

 

 

He jumps to floor. Really, he falls to the floor, in the confused tumble of someone who has recently found their number of ambulatory limbs doubled. 

“Wow,” Tyler says, and he manages to make exactly the same face he does when Tanner wipes out on the ice. _“Wow.”_

“Shut up.” Tanner climbs to his feet. The floor is really gross this close up. He needs to vacuum. Also, colors look weird, and he can smell his laundry all the way across the room. “Where’s Joner? Is Joner a cat too?” 

“I don’t know,” Tyler looks shifty. “I haven’t made it upstairs yet.” 

Tanner smirks, because maybe Tyler’s not so fucking superior when it comes to this four-legged stuff after all. “Let’s go find him.” 

 

 

Instead, Joner finds them. 

In the hallway. Outside the bathroom. He looks down at them from very high up. Joner is not a cat. Joner stares for one long, silent minute while Tanner tries to figure out how to shrug. “Fucking Toffoli,” he finally says, each syllable getting its own particular, disdainful emphasis. 

“Hey,” Tyler cranes his neck up to look at him. He sounds offended. “Why do you assume this is my fault?” 

“Tyler!” Joner yells, but he’s not looking at Tyler at all. He’s looking down the hall. “Tyler, did you bring fucking cats in here?” He stalks off towards Tyler’s room at a fast clip, and Tyler goes trotting after him. Tanner goes after both of them, but his gait comes out more like a trot in the front and a bunny hop in the back, and this can’t possibly be how cats are supposed to move. 

“Tyler!” Joner yells again, right outside Tyler’s room, and then he pushes the door open. 

“I’m not in there,” Tyler says. “I’m down here.” 

Joner stares at the empty room. Joner looks pissed. Tanner is suddenly pretty fucking stoked Tyler seems to be taking the fall for this. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Joner says to the empty room. He turns on his heel and heads for Tanner’s room. Tanner and Tyler wait for him in the hallway. After Joner discovers Tanner’s room is empty, he heads back for his own room. He throws one quick glance at them and shudders. He comes out with his phone and he taps at it. 

Tanner hears the chime of his own phone go off, and the simultaneous buzz of Tyler’s phone. 

“Oh, there it is,” Tyler says. His ears flick back towards the living room. 

“What the fuck,” Joner says. 

“We’re cats now,” Tanner says. “But you need to fix this or we’re going to be late to practice, and I don’t want to get fined.” 

“What the fuck,” Joner says. Then he goes and gets the box the new microwave came in. 

“Gonna make us a fort, Jonesy?” Tyler asks. “I like forts.” 

Joner sets the box in the middle of the living room floor. He looks around for a minute and then he grabs the blanket off the back of the couch. He looks at Tyler. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” He holds the blanket up in front of him like a shield. 

Tyler tips his head sideways. “Jonesy?” 

Tanner, Tyler, and the blanket all end up in the box. Then the lid gets shut, and everything gets very dark. “Joner!” Tanner yells. Which does absolutely no good at all. 

“I think Joner might be pissed,” Tyler says, with his typical level of insight. 

“Yeah, well, that makes sense,” Tanner shoots back, “given that he’s – oh, shit.” 

Tyler blinks at him. “What?” 

“He’s, like, super allergic to cats. We talked about it when we agreed to live together. Shit.” 

“Oh man, that sucks.” Tyler’s eyes are really big. “If you stay a cat, you’re gonna have to find, like, a whole new place to live.” He brightens. “Maybe you can live with me. I mean, my place is smaller, but I guess we’re a lot smaller now – ” 

“Toff, that’s the fucking _least_ of what – ” 

The box shakes. The box is being lifted. The box is in motion. 

“Oh, this is _weird_ ,” Tyler says. 

Tanner crouches. He tries to brace himself against the side of the box. In the end, the easiest thing to do is fall over. 

The box is set down. Tanner hears a car door slam. An engine kick to life. 

“Maybe he’s taking us to practice,” Tyler says. 

That – doesn’t seem likely. “I don’t think he’s taking us to practice, Toff.” 

The car starts moving, which feels weird. They are moving, and not moving. Rocking a little. 

“I don’t feel good.” Tyler moans a little and sinks down into a crouched position, shoulders hunched. “Oh, man. I really don’t feel good. I really, really don’t feel good – ” 

“Tyler,” Tanner hisses. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you – ” 

 

 

“Oh my god.” Tanner keeps his eyes squeezed shut, which does nothing to mitigate the fact that he’s trapped in a box with Tyler Toffoli and his cat puke. “Oh my god.” 

“I do feel a little better,” Tyler says. 

 

 

The box is carried again and set down. Tanner hears Joner say, “Two cats. I found them in my house. I think they just wandered in.” 

“We didn’t wander in,” Tyler corrects, from inside the box. “We woke up like this.” Then he laughs and starts humming. Because apparently what Tanner’s day was missing was Tyler Toffoli’s rendition of Beyoncé. 

There are other, mumbled voices, and the box moves, and then it opens. 

It’s not Joner. 

It’s some lady. She’s wearing a t-shirt that says, _El Segundo Humane Society._

“Oh, _shit_.” Tanner says. 

She reaches in and picks up Tyler. 

Tyler yelps. “She’s picking me up. She’s picking me up – ” His voice rises with each word. “ – she’s touching me. Oh my god, Pears, I’m _naked_ – ” 

“Easy, easy,” she murmurs at Tyler. She carries him out of sight. 

“Tyler!” He yells. “Tyler!” He makes an embarrassment of an attempt at jumping out. 

“Shhh,” she calls from somewhere across the room. “I’ll be right back for you.” 

She is. She reaches for him. Tanner resolves not to panic. 

 

 

Being carried is super, super weird. 

 

 

They end up in a big wire cage. There are other cats in the room, but none in their cage. Tanner looks over to his right. “What are you in for?” 

Two yellow eyes blink back at him. 

Right, Tanner thinks. Actually a cat. He looks at Tyler. 

Tyler is poking a bowl of kibble with his foot, trying and failing to pick up a piece with his paw. “If you eat that,” Tanner says, “I’m going to tell everyone we know.” 

Tyler glares at him. 

“Anyway,” Tanner says. “We need to get out of here. Before they do stuff to us.” 

Tyler frowns. “You mean like give us a bath?” 

“No, Tyler. I mean like before they _neuter_ us.” 

“Before they – ” Tyler stops. He blinks. “Oh, _hell_ no. No. Absolutely not. They can’t take my balls. I need those.” 

“Please.” Tanner rolls his eyes. “Not like you’re using them.” 

“I might want to one day!” Tyler looks sufficiently freaked that Tanner doesn’t give anymore grief. “We have to get out of here. How are we going to get out of here? We’re trapped. Pears, we’re trapped – we’ll never make it out – ” 

Tanner narrows his eyes at him. “Toff. We’re not actually cats, remember?” 

“So?” 

“So,” Tanner waves a paw in the general direction of the cage door. “We know how latches work.” 

 

 

Getting out turns out to be remarkably simple, and Tanner spares a moment to be grateful that cats are not people, or at least seem to have no understanding of how the mechanics of simple machines work, or they’d probably have taken over the world. 

Also cages would be a lot harder to get out of. 

 

 

Getting out the door is a matter of timing. 

 

 

“Freedom!” Tyler bolts out and down the street, and Tanner does his fastest bunny hop after him. 

They make it two blocks before Tyler turns and looks at him and stops dead. “What are you _doing?_ ” 

“Running,” Tanner says. 

“That… is not how you do it.” Tyler frowns, like maybe Tanner’s doing this on purpose just to fuck with him. 

“Tyler, if I could do an epic fucking cheetah run, I would. I’m sorry I’m not a particularly fucking graceful cat,” he snaps. “As it is, I just want to get to practice.” 

“We are,” Tyler agrees, “probably super fucking late. What do you think the fine is for being a cat?” 

They make their way down Grand, Tyler at a quick trot, Tanner in irregular fits and starts. “I don’t even want to be seen with you,” Tyler says. “How are you so bad at this?” He stops and awaits for Tanner to catch up, holding up one of his feet to inspect it. “Gross. Gross. Gross. God, figures the one day we have to walk to practice we’re barefoot. Hey, do you they make – 

“No,” Tanner says, firm. 

 

 

Getting into the Toyota Center is easy. Getting into the locker room is less easy, but manageable. They are, in fact, super fucking late. Guys are already trooping back in from the ice, sweaty and gross. 

“Wait,” Drew says. “Are those cats? Did we get cats?” 

Tanner walks right up to Brownie, who is sitting in his stall, pants still on, but stripped to the waist. “Look,” Tanner says. “I know this is super weird, but Tyler and I woke us as cats. We tried to get here, but Joner took us to the Humane Society, which was kinda a dick move, but I totally get it, so it’s fine. What I would really like to know, is how Tyler and I could stop being cats, because while this has been, like, educational, I would really like to go back to being a person now. So if you have, like, any thoughts or advice on that, that would be helpful.” 

“Huh,” Brownie says, looking down at him. “Chatty little fucker, aren’t you?” 

Tanner scowls. 

“Are they rink cats?” Drew asks. 

“There’s no such thing as rink cats,” Greener says. 

“We had a raccoon that lived at the rink, up in Dorchie,” Drew says. He looks thoughtful. “Mostly outside, though.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Joner troops in then, gear still on, his mask pushed up. “What the fuck – those are the cats that were in my house this morning.” He points at Tanner with his stick. “You keep those fucking things away from me, I’m mad allergic.” He looks disgusted. 

Tanner tries not to take it personal. 

“These cats,” Brownie gestures at them, “were in your house this morning?” 

“Yeah.” 

“These exact cats?” 

“ _Yes_.” Joner looks exasperated. “Getting their, like, hair and shit all over everything. I’m gonna sneeze for a week.” 

“And Toffoli and Pearson are still MIA?” 

“Uh.” Joner says. 

Everybody in the room looks at Joner. And then everybody looks at Tanner and Tyler. 

 

 

“Okay, guys, bring it in.” There’s a loose circle of twenty-one hockey players around them. They seem very large. Brownie’s looking from face to face. “This is gonna be one of those things that if it doesn’t work, we don’t ever talk about it, okay? Not like – ” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Quickie says. “Just do it.” 

“Right.” Brownie swallows. He looks rather put out, mouth all twisted up like he’s bitten into something very sour. “I can’t believe I’m about to talk to a cat.” He clears his throat and looks down. “Okay. Which one of you is Toffoli?” 

“Me,” Tyler says. “Duh.” 

“Oh, god.” Brownie looks sick. “And – Pears?” 

“Yes.” Tanner waves a paw and rolls his eyes. “We’re cats. I said that already. We’ve been over this.” 

“Okay.” Greener blows out a long, slow breath. “Maybe let’s all just… take a minute.” 

There is a great deal of serious nodding. 

“I don’t know what fucking genius plan you think we’re gonna come up with in a minute, Greener,” Quickie says. “Seeing as how two of the rookies are cats.” 

“I’m not a rookie,” Tyler says, and then stops when everyone stares at him. “Uh, technically speaking.” 

“Oh god, it is him,” Carts says. And then he goes to sit down. 

 

 

Twenty minutes later they are still cats, and no one has suggested anything that sounds like it will make them not cats. “I’m gonna shower,” Brownie says, and when the rest of the room glares at him, “What? I think better in the shower.” 

Drew leans down and snaps his fingers at them. “Here, puss-puss.” 

Tanner glares at him. “Go fuck yourself.” 

Behind him, Tyler’s tail is lashing. “We’re not going to be cats _forever,_ are we Pears?” His ears lie flat against his head. 

Tanner reaches a paw out to touch one. “How do you even _do_ that?” 

Tyler ducks his head away. “How do I – I don’t know, they just do it all on their own. But, I don’t want to be a cat. It wasn’t so bad before, but I’m over it now. You can’t play hockey as a cat,” Tyler’s starting to sound increasingly desperate. “Pears, hockey is like the _one thing_ I’m good at. I’m gonna have to go back to school. I’m gonna have to learn all kinds of cat things. I can’t do that – it took me like three tries to pass the first time, and that was _people_ stuff – ” 

“Tyler,” Tanner says, very sharply. “You are not going to have to go to cat school.” He closes his eyes for just a second. “Mostly because there is no such thing, but also because we are not going to be cats forever. I refuse to be a cat forever.” 

“Joner,” Brownie comes out of the shower, dripping, towel around his waist. “In all your shit-talking about cats, did you ever do it in front of anybody that, say, I don’t know, looked like a stereotypical, evil, Disney witch?” 

 

 

“I said I was sorry,” Joner says. Not for the first time. 

“My balls,” Tyler says, gesturing sharply to the ultimately undamaged but endangered area. “My _balls.”_

Joner settles back against the couch. “Yeah, well, I still have hives, so we’re even.” 

From his other side, Tanner says, “Not in any way are we remotely even.” He picks up his empty beer and waves it in front of Joner’s face. 

Joner rolls his eyes, but he gets up, snatching the empty from Tanner’s hand. Tanner can hear him muttering from the kitchen, “I fucking feed you. Fucking water you. You might as well be fucking cats.” __

When Joner holds the beer out, Tanner bats at it. 

“I hate you,” Joner says. “I really fucking hate you.” 

Tanner purrs. 

**Author's Note:**

> "If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat." Mark Twain, Notebook, 1894


End file.
